


He Must Break (Before He Can Heal)

by Bebedora



Series: He Must Break (Before He Can Heal) [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mention of Minor Character Death, breakdowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebedora/pseuds/Bebedora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Set a few months after Star Trek 2009]  Jim loses something that he never knew mattered so much.  And as his best friend, McCoy is left to watch him spiral into his grief, unsure just how he can help...if he even can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Must Break (Before He Can Heal)

He Must Break (Before He Can Heal)

                “Bones, just why _are_ you here, anyway? You bored?” Kirk swiveled around in his chair. The bridge was buzzing with activity.

McCoy narrowed his eyes at his Captain and best friend. “No, I’m seconds away from dragging you back to medical for the physical you’ve been avoiding for the last three weeks. I figured if Spock were here he could help me subdue you with his crazy Vulcan strength.”

Spock looked up from his console, raising an eyebrow, but did not respond.

“C’mon, he’s my First Officer. He wouldn’t betray me like that…would you?” Kirk eyed Spock.

“Of course not, Sir. Not unless you were deemed unable to command. In that case, the use of force would need to be determined on a case-by-case basis.” Spock rose from his seat and moved to stand behind Kirk’s chair, facing McCoy. “Doctor, if the Captain will not submit to his physical willingly, I am unsure how forcibly persuading him to do so would help the situation. In fact, he would more than likely go to great lengths to avoid said examination in excess.”

“See Bones? He’s on my side.” Kirk winked at him.

“I do not wish to ‘take sides.’ I am merely stating the truth. History has shown that you will indeed avoid Sick Bay and any necessary medical examinations if pressed into them. Therefore, if Doctor McCoy wishes you to submit to your physical, he would be wise not to force you.” He turned to the Doctor. “I believe that if you stop suggesting that the Captain come to you for his exam, he will, in time, come in on his own.”

“Stay out of this, you green-blooded…never mind.” McCoy turned to Kirk, whose whole body was quaking with silent laughter at the sight of the two men bickering. “I mean it, Jim. You can’t hide from me forever.”

Kirk stopped chuckling and muttered under his breath. “Not when you’re following me around all the time I can’t.”

“I heard that. One of these days I’m gonna-“

“Sir, incoming transmission from Starfleet Headquarters.” Lieutenant Uhura turned to her Captain with a concerned expression. “It’s Admiral Pike.”

“Pike? That’s a surprise. Put it onscreen.” Kirk swiveled his chair to face the viewer and waited for the transmission to appear. Uhura spoke quietly to the contact in San Francisco, listening intently to the response in her earpiece.

“Sir,” Uhura hesitated. “The Admiral would like to speak to you privately.”

Kirk acknowledged her with a nod and stood, straightening his tunic. “Alright, then. Send it to my ready room, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, Sir.”

McCoy watched him go, his brow furrowing with concern. Usually when an Admiral called, it wasn’t just to say “hello.” Especially when he wanted the conversation with his young protégé to be behind closed doors.

Kirk clapped Sulu on the shoulder as he passed him, a beaming smile on his face. He disappeared into his small ready room, vanishing behind the sliding door.

Sitting behind the desk in his leather chair he connected the call. Pike’s image flickered into view on the screen, Kirk noticing right away that he had a little more gray in his hair since the last time they had talked.

_“Jim, thank you for taking my comm.”_

“Admiral, nice to hear from you. How’s everything on Earth?” He sipped on hours-old coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. “Nice weather in ‘Frisco?”

_“It’s raining today.”_

“Vina’s garden coming along better this spring? I know she was disappointed in her green bean harvest last year. I gave her some poin-“

_“James…”_ Pike’s tone was somber and insistent. Kirk watched the older man’s expression soften, his eyes showing sadness. _“Are you alone?”_

“Yes. Admiral…what’s going on?” He set his coffee cup down on the desk and sat forward.

Pike sighed on the screen, looking away for just a moment. _“Captain Singh of the Challenger contacted me this morning.”_

“The _Challenger_? That’s…”

_“Your mother’s ship.”_ Pike hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the words. _“There was a plasma leak in their engineering section during Gamma shift. She went to help contain it and was burned severely. She...I’m sorry, Jim. Your mother died from her injuries.”_

Kirk sat in silence for a long moment, staring just past the image of the Admiral and into his readyroom.

_“Jim? You alright?”_

The young Captain cleared his throat and focused back on the screen. “I’m fine, Admiral.”

Pike eyed him with a hint of suspicion. _“Are you sure? Do you need anything?”_

“No, Sir. Thank you.”

_“You’ll be given a leave of absence for the service, of course.”_

Kirk shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

_“Yes, it is. Look, you need to go.”_

Jim exhaled deeply. “Admiral, with all due respect…”

_“You’re going. I’ll have my secretary send the information as soon as we get it.”_

“Yes, Sir.” Kirk’s response was mumbled.

_“Kirk, if you need to talk about this, I’m here.”_

Jim offered a weak smile. “Thank you, Admiral. I’ll keep that in mind.” He clenched his fists in hi _s_ lap, out of view of the camera on his monitor. “Is there anything else?”

_“Not unless you need there to be.”_ Pike looked at him hopefully.

“No, Sir. Thank you for letting me know.”

Pike nodded on the screen. _“I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of bad news this morning.”_

“I appreciate that it was you and not some Starfleet peon.”

_“I’ll be in touch.”_

Kirk acknowledged him with a nod and disconnected the signal. He turned in his chair and stared out into space, watching the stars slide past his window.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

The Captain returned to his post several minutes later, solemn and quiet.

McCoy noticed his disposition had taken a turn and nudged Spock with his elbow. He leaned down close the Vulcan and whispered. “What do you reckon Pike said to him? Something’s up.”

Spock turned and observed Kirk for a moment before responding. “Unknown, Doctor. However, I can surmise from his change in mood that it may have been something unpleasant. If you are concerned about his emotional state, perhaps you should evaluate him medically?”

“Like he’d allow that.” McCoy snorted and stood, crossing his arms over his chest. He watched as Jim slowly made his way to his chair and sat, eyes focused somewhere on the floor in front of his feet.

Chekov turned around to update him on the ship’s current heading. “All systems are normal, Sir. Ve are heading towards ze Pilikin Star and should be zere vithin two hours. Ve vill be able to commence our survey as soon as ve are vithin orbiting distance.”

“Thank you, Ensign.” Kirk entered in a few commands into the armrest of his chair. McCoy sidled up next to him.

“You alright, Jim?” His lowered his voice so the whole bridge couldn’t hear.

“Fine, Bones.” He grabbed a PADD from the other armrest and began signing off on reports. He never even looked up at the Doctor. “Is there something else you needed?”

McCoy scowled. He knew there was something going on, but he relented and decided to let Jim brood for a while. “Not really. But I expect you in Sick Bay before the day is out. If you ditch me again, I’ll hurt you.”

“Sure, Bones. I’ll be there after my shift ends.”

McCoy was surprised that Kirk had agreed to show up for his physical without any sass or scheming. He reached out and tried to covertly place the back of his hand on Jim’s forehead. “You feverish or something? You never agree that easily to a work-up.”

Kirk swatted his hand away and recoiled. “I said I’d be there. If there isn’t anything else you need, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to take care of.”

“Aye, _Captain_.” Sensing that Jim wasn’t in a playful mood, McCoy turned heel and made his way towards the turbolift. As the door began to slide closed, he watched as Jim’s shoulders and head sagged as he stared ahead at the view screen.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

 

Sick Bay was practically deserted.

A single officer lay on a biobed in the middle of the room, sidelined with a compound fracture of the femur in the early afternoon. McCoy had made quick work of the operation to repair the break, and had kept the Lieutenant overnight while the regenerators worked their magic.

A few nurses flitted about, checking on the lone patient or restocking supplies. McCoy had been sitting in his office for several hours going over records and files. He tried to tell himself that it was necessary busy work, but he knew better. He was waiting for a Captain who more than likely wouldn’t show up anyway.

Closing his tired eyes and scrubbing a hand over his stubbled face, he sighed deeply and turned off his PADD. He looked at his chronometer. Twenty-two-hundred hours.

_Might as well go get some sleep._

_He’s not coming._

Leonard stood and stretched his arms behind his back, eliciting a loud crack from his spine. He rolled his neck back and forth, releasing the tension stored in his tired muscles. As he exited his office and turned out the lights, he caught a glimpse of the main doors swishing open. He was stunned when Kirk strode through, not even bothering to flirt with the nurse puttering about in the linen closet next to him.

McCoy met him halfway into the main room. “It’s about damn time. I’ve been waitin’ for hours, you know.”

“I told you I’d come.” Kirk’s voice was quiet and defeated.

“Yeah, well, I don’t believe anything you say. So forgive me if I look shocked.” He gestured towards an empty exam room. “Well, c’mon, let’s get started. I don’t want to stick around any longer than I have to. I’m exhausted.”

The two men walked into the small room, McCoy closing the door and tinting the windows. “Strip down to your boxers, sunshine.” He half expected Jim to reply with a snarky remark about getting a nurse to assist him or balking at the air temperature on his exposed skin. But instead, the Captain did as he was told without so much as a whimper. Jim lifted himself onto the biobed, the display immediately lighting up with his vitals.

McCoy started the exam in silence, checking Kirk’s cardiac activity with a small hand-held scanner. He looked up at the screen. “Your blood pressure’s normal, heart’s strong. Blood oxygen levels are great.” He gently pushed Jim back onto the table and began to press on his abdomen. “Liver feels fine; scans show no abnormalities in your kidneys or spleen. You’re in perfect health, like always.”

Kirk just grunted his response and stared up at the ceiling. McCoy helped him into a seated position and retrieved a small blood collecting device. “Hold out your arm, I need to draw some blood.”

Jim obeyed without a complaint. McCoy eyed him as the vial filled, small bubbles collecting on the meniscus of crimson liquid in the glass container. The Captain usually bitched to high heaven about the pinch on his arm or the bruise he always claimed the device left. Instead, he sat silently, watching McCoy’s hands work.

The Doctor removed the collector and dropped the vial into a small basket next to the biobed. He grabbed an ocular scanner and waved it in front of Jim’s eyes, the light attached illuminating the striking blue of Kirk’s irises. “Still won’t reconsider on the laser procedure, will you? It would get rid of the need for your glasses…even though you only wear them in private.”

“Maybe.”

Now McCoy knew something wasn’t right. Kirk always vehemently opposed the simple surgery that would correct his vision. Since he was a teenager, he had worn archaic contact lenses, always leery of a strong laser being pointed into his eye. At the Academy, McCoy had tried on more than one occasion to convince Jim that the procedure was safe. And each time, Kirk had shot him down, claiming that he didn’t mind the contacts, even when his eyes were dry and red from irritation.

He set the scanner down and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on, kid? You’re not yourself—you should have whined like nobody’s business about all the stuff I just suggested.”

“Nothing, okay?” Kirk began to reach for his shirt, but McCoy grabbed his wrist.

“I don’t believe you. What did Pike say to you this morning?”

Kirk looked down at his feet, swinging off the edge of the biobed. His answer was carried on a long sigh. “My mother’s dead.”

“Shit, Jim. I’m sorry.” He hesitated for a moment before he put a comforting hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “How?”

Jim reached up and scratched the back of his neck absentmindedly. “Plasma leak on the _Challenger._ Burns did her in.” He didn’t look at the Doctor.

McCoy wanted to know more. He handed Kirk his tunic as he questioned. “Must have been pretty severe burns. Did Pike say anything else?”

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about it, Bones.” Jim pulled his shirt over his head. “Can I go now?”

“Sure, Jim.” He entered some information into Kirk’s records while the young man pulled on his pants and slipped his feet into his boots. As Kirk made his way to the door, McCoy stopped him. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.” Kirk hesitated for a moment, dawdling by picking at a strip of caulking on the medbay window. “Bones? Do you think you’d…” He sighed deeply. “…never mind.”

“What? C’mon, don’t get all maudlin on me.”

Kirk turned his attention back to him, eyes slightly watering. “Would you come with me? To the memorial? It’s in a week, back on Earth. She didn’t want a funeral, so they buried her in space.”

Leonard knew how hard it was for Jim to reach out like this. He was always the strong one, not wanting to burden anyone with his problems. But, on the other hand, McCoy had never met Winona Kirk or any of the clan. He was unsure if he belonged there.

“Isn’t that a family thing? I don’t want to intrude.”

Kirk’s face was drawn, his voice quiet and meek. “You’re the closest thing I have left to family. My brother and I aren’t on speaking terms. Besides, it’s just something for Starfleet brass to congregate at and puff out their chests.” Embarrassment flushed his face and he immediately brushed off the conversation. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll be there, Jim.” McCoy looked directly into his friend’s eyes. “If you want me there with you, consider it done.”

“Thanks, Bones. It…means a lot to me.” He sighed tiredly, running a hand through his hair. “So, what’s the verdict? Do I get a clean bill of health?”

“Of course you do. Every damn time.” He moved closer to Jim and clasped his hand tightly around the Captain’s bicep. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kirk managed a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“That’s not what I meant. About your mom…”

“It’s okay, really. We…weren’t close. Honest.” Jim’s eyes began to mist up, causing him to blink quickly and look away from the Doctor.

McCoy wasn’t buying Jim’s response, but decided not to push him further. He remembered how he felt after his father’s passing. If he didn’t feel like talking—it meant he _really_ didn’t feel like talking. He respected Jim enough to leave well enough alone. For the time being.

“If you say so. Just remember I’m here any time you need to talk.”

Kirk patted McCoy’s hand—still clamped tightly around his arm—with his own. The Doctor released his grip. “Thanks, Bones.”

Jim turned and exited the small exam room, slowly making his way out of Medical. McCoy watched him as he left, worried for his best friend.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX

 

**One Week Later**

McCoy was exhausted.

He had just come off a double shift thanks to an emergency appendectomy. He knew he should go to sleep, but his racing mind wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jim or his mother’s memorial. So, he decided to let off some steam in the gym before hitting the sack.

He entered the gym and headed straight for the locker room, without even bothering to survey the main workout area. Usually he looked to see who was there—or who he wanted to avoid—before he went to the lockers. But today he was just too tired to care. Besides, it was well past midnight, and he didn’t expect anyone to be lifting weights at this hour.

He keyed in the combination to his personal locker and pulled out a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. As Leonard stripped off his scrubs, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to the memorial service. He had been trying to figure out Jim’s behavior for the past day. Something had kept nagging his thoughts, unwilling to leave him alone.

Jim hadn’t shed a single tear.

Not once during the ceremony, his eulogy or at any time as he received condolences from the hundreds of well-wishers. Jim had been stone-faced at the service. But knowing Jim as well as he did, McCoy had seen what others couldn’t. They way Jim clenched his fists at every mention of George Kirk, the beads of sweat tumbling down his neck and disappearing into his uniform collar even though it had been chilly inside the Academy’s congregation hall, or the nervous tapping of the kid’s fingers on his thighs as Admiral Barnett had praised Commander Kirk’s achievements during her career with Starfleet.

At Kirk’s own admission, he and his mother hadn’t been that close, but McCoy suspected there was more to the story. During their years at the Academy, on occasions where one or both of them were on their way to becoming slobbering drunk, Jim had talked about his mom. Or Frank. Or Sam.

He had confided in the doctor once that he had felt abandoned by her, especially when she didn’t try and save him from Frank—or Tarsus IV. He had always shrugged any type of emotional attachment to her off, citing no need for any sort of “motherly” influence. But McCoy would see it in his face—the sullen eyes, slight frown pulling his lips down—he could see that Jim was trying to trick himself.

He never brought any of this to Kirk’s attention, though. Who was he to give advice to someone suffering emotionally? Surely not him. Not the man who had single-handedly pushed the syringe into his own father’s veins, ending his life. Or who let his marriage fail, and his daughter slip from his arms.

McCoy shook his head in defeat as he sat down on the bench to tie his sneakers. Their shuttle ride back to the ship had given him a little more insight into Jim’s life and opinion of his mother. And truth be told, it just left him with more questions.

_“That was a nice eulogy, Jim.”_

_“I really didn’t know what to say.” Jim sat next to him, staring out the small port window. He craned his neck to look at the approaching ship._

_“Are you kidding me? She was your mother, kid.”_

_“I told you, we weren’t that close. She wasn’t around a whole lot, and that left me with Frank.”_

_McCoy noticed in that moment that Kirk had stiffened in his seat, his tone laden with venom at the mention of his stepfather, and had decided not to push further. “Well, whatever it was, you did a good job. She would have been proud of you.”_

_Kirk snorted. “She surely didn’t show it. Did you know that she never even called to congratulate me when I officially got the Enterprise? Or that when I came back from Tarsus she didn’t…you know what? It doesn’t matter…”_

_“I’m sure she was busy, kid. She was an engineer on the Challenger, and that took her to all sorts of places.”_

_“Busy…whatever you say.” And then Jim had silently turned his head to stare out the window, not saying another word until they disembarked._

That had been early evening yesterday, and McCoy hadn’t seen or heard from Kirk since. He knew the kid needed his space, and was happy to oblige him. He had decided to check on him in the morning, before rounds in Sick Bay.

He stood up and stretched his arms behind his back before bending over to touch his toes a few times, limbering up his spine. As he approached the one-way glass that looked out into the gym, he could hear raging and somewhat pained grunting coming from the other room. It sounded like someone was pounding the living hell out of the heavy punching bag.

He came up to the tinted glass and found himself staring at the Captain, viciously attacking the hanging workout aid. He watched as Jim pummeled the bag, sweat drenching the thin gray tank top he wore. His face was reddened, bare knuckles beginning to crack and bleed from each brutal blow to the leather.

_So much for being okay, Jim._

With every desperate punch Jim threw, McCoy could see the despair and anger pouring out of his friend. He so badly wanted to help him, but knew that Kirk was moving through the stages of grief and needed to be alone. He could see the seething anger in Jim’s eyes, even as tears threatened to fall from them.

Jim was stressed. By everything in his life. Even though he never wanted to admit it, he was under an immense amount of pressure. Starfleet was constantly watching his every move as a new Captain. With only having command of the flagship for little less than three months, he knew he had to be on point at all times. Everyone was waiting for him to screw up.

The kid hardly slept, stretching himself thin to make himself accessible to every member of the crew whenever they needed him. And sometimes that meant being available at three in the morning.

Kirk knew that all the old-timers in Starfleet saw his father in his face, just as his mother had. They all expected him to be as brave and as noble as George Kirk. Growing up, Jim hadn’t given a flying fuck about who his father had been—his exact words to McCoy during a drunken tirade in the Academy—and now here he was, working every minute of his day trying to make him proud posthumously.

And all the while knowing that the one person that was still alive to see him succeed didn’t care.

At least, she didn’t seem to.

McCoy figured Winona hadn’t been able to look at Jim and not see George. And that must have been terrible. She had lost her husband so quickly and violently, and all with a newborn baby cradled in her arms. A baby that had become a Starfleet Captain that looked just like his father.

Leonard imagined that would make it hard for Winona to accept anything that had to do with her son, whether it be congratulating him on being the youngest Starfleet Captain in history, or just contacting him every once and a while to say hello.

Jim never admitted it, but McCoy knew it bothered him.

Even though she didn’t reach out much, she was still there. She may not have been able to treat her son the way he desperately needed to be treated, but she had a presence, albeit at very small one. McCoy knew that in the last five years, Kirk had seen his mother only once. At some Starfleet charity function that neither one had known the other was attending. Jim had been a guest of Christopher Pike, the older man showing off his young ward to the masses. They had only been at the Academy for a year and a half, and already Jim had made a name for himself, both academically and socially. McCoy hadn’t been in attendance that night, but all he had to do was look at the press photos to see that they had both been uncomfortable. Leonard swore he could almost see the longing in Jim’s eyes in the posed photo—no doubt requested by the hordes of photographers there.

And now, a mere week after her untimely and terrible death, Jim was left completely alone.

He watched as Jim took his grief out on the inanimate punching bag. His motions became more violent and intense. McCoy was grateful that Kirk was taking his anger out on the bag, and not someone else. He knew Jim had a short temper sometimes, and he wouldn’t put it past the kid to lash out at someone, especially if he was drunk. Which he was sure was going to happen sooner than later.

McCoy noticed as the intensity came to a head and he could see that Jim had begun to cry, each rageful punch forcing tears from his eyes. Every once and a while he would kick the bag forcefully, slamming his shin or heel into the material and sending the apparatus swinging wildly away from him. As it came swinging back, Jim grabbed it and held on with a bear hug, panting as his body protested the savage treatment it was receiving.

He stood there, chest heaving for a long moment before it looked as if something inside him snapped. He flew into a frenzy and attacked the bag with such ferocity that Leonard actually contemplated running in and stopping him.

But, McCoy knew that in order to recover, sometimes one had to break first. As painful as it was to watch Jim spiral downward like this, it was necessary. Yes, it broke his heart to see his best friend hurting so badly, but if this is what he needed to make him see how much his mother meant to him, then so be it.

Truthfully, Leonard didn’t know for sure if Jim’s outburst here in the gym was due to his mother’s death, but he was pretty confident he was hitting the nail on the head. He had never seen Jim act like this, so unglued and out of control. In all their time at the Academy, as drunk as he had been over the years and as many bar fights he had been in, there had always seemed to be an element of control in Jim’s reactions. In all the bar brawls he had witnessed, not once did Jim shed any tears or have the look of uncontrolled rage in his expression. It was always over something stupid, like a girl or an asshole comment from someone—sometimes Jim, sometimes a lowlife looking for a fight. And every time Jim had a cocky smirk or a crooked smile, his eyes laughing as he was beaten to a bloody pulp—or he did the same to his adversary.

But what the Doctor was witnessing was different. It was unbridled sadness, the flames being fanned by a deep anger and resentment that McCoy could only fathom was due to Winona’s death.

The sound of a flurry of wild punches and an almost inhuman moan snapped him from his thoughts and he looked into the gym just in time to see Jim unleash the last of his barrage onto the bag, leaving bloody knuckle-prints on the fabric. Jim backed up against the wall and slid down, his back leaving a sweaty streak as he plopped down onto the floor. He was weeping openly, choked sobs escaping his lips as the rest of his pent-up rage came cascading out, dripping tears onto the bloody hands in his lap as he hung his head.

_Jim…_

As he watched his friend suffer on the cold tile floor, he thought back to what Jim had said about his mother in his eulogy. How robotic and un-emotional his speech had been.

_“Winona Kirk was a loyal Starfleet officer, a talented engineer. She put her life on the line trying to save the crew of the Challenger, but I don’t think she’d want to be remembered as a hero.”_

McCoy ran the tribute over and over in his head. Not once had Jim uttered the word “mother.” Never did he talk of his childhood, his times with her. If one hadn’t been privy to the information that he was her son, one would have never known from the way he talked that they had any sort of connection other than the Federation.

The way Jim had said “hero” made Leonard’s skin prickle that morning. There had been something in his tone, almost as if she wasn’t deserving of the title. Leonard had known Kirk long enough to know that the word had a different meaning to him than it did to anyone else. George Kirk had been labelled as such, casting a looming shadow over Jim’s entire life. It seemed to McCoy that Jim was unwilling to have another parent with such a badge of honor.

And, in that moment, Jim’s breakdown in front of his eyes began to make perfect sense. He had spent his entire life living with the specter of his father around every corner, in every lecture, on the tongue of every Admiral that he ever came in contact with. His mother wasn’t the only one who saw George every time they looked at him.

With his mother gone, there were no more ties to the legendary “Captain-for-a-dozen-minutes.” Sure, he had a brother, but there was no relationship to be had. That time had long since passed, and they both knew they didn’t have a life together anymore. The only link he had to what it meant to be a Kirk had been ripped from him before he had a chance to make things right.

It hit Leonard like a ton of bricks, and he had to fight the urge to collapse just like Jim had.

Jim knew he was alone now.

There was no one to turn to when he needed guidance, not that he had been able to in the first place. No one left with the Kirk moniker that could shed any light on family history, no one to tell him he was doing good by his name.

Jim was regretting not making amends. Not being able to be a bigger person and call Winona out on his childhood, bring everything to light that he had kept bottled up for so very long. If he had just reached out, McCoy surmised, he may have been able to salvage their relationship.

But it was too late.

McCoy began to move towards the door, ready and willing to comfort Jim. But he stopped short just before he turned the corner into the room. As bad as he wanted to help, to console his best friend and give him a shoulder to cry on, his brain told him to stop. Jim didn’t need him right now. He needed to be alone. Because if Leonard were to make his presence known, Kirk would undoubtedly clam up and bury his emotions deep down.

And that was the opposite of what he needed at the moment.

So, instead, Leonard turned around and walked right out of the door, forgetting about his own workout. _Eventually_ the young Captain would need a stiff drink and a strong shoulder to cry on. And McCoy would be there for him.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

Two days later, just as McCoy had predicted, Kirk appeared at his door after hours. Looking sullen and in need of a friend, the doctor invited him in and offered up his best scotch.

“You don’t have to crack the seal on that, Bones. I know you were saving it.”

McCoy scoffed. “Kid, there’s no use in letting it sit on the shelf lookin’ pretty.” He pried the wax off and opened the bottle. The strong aroma of high-quality alcohol wafted up into his nostrils. He poured two tumblers worth, full to almost the top, and joined Jim on the small couch, toting the bottle under his arm.

Kirk sipped the liquid slowly, rolling it around on his tongue. “Wow…this is really good, Bones.”

McCoy raised his glass and clinked it against Jim’s. “You better believe it, dammit. It was a gift from Pike for breaking protocol and dragging your sorry ass on board the _Enterprise_.”

“Well, he’s got good taste.” Jim chuckled slightly, then his expression softened. “Listen, Bones…I want to thank you.”

“For what?” McCoy knew what the kid was getting at, but he wanted to hear it from Jim’s mouth.

“For letting me grieve on my own terms. I know that you wanted to help right away, but I…” He sighed deeply and took another drink. “…I just wasn’t ready to open up yet. But, I am now.”

McCoy was happy that Kirk had finally decided to come to him. He had hemmed and hawed in the past few days about whether or not to tell Jim what he had seen in the gym, but had ultimately decided against it. And now, he didn’t have to bring it up at all, because Kirk was ready to let his floodgates open on his own terms.

“I told you I’d be here. Whenever you needed me.”

Jim set his glass down on the tabletop and hung his head. He took a deep, somewhat shaky breath. When he let his head up, his eyes were moist with tears. “I need you now, Bones. I…miss her.”

McCoy scooted closer to Kirk and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. Jim immediately turned in and buried his head in the fabric of his shirt. Leonard could feel the warm wetness of tears soak through his tunic. He sat quietly and let the Captain pour his heart out onto his sleeve, literally.

They sat for a long moment in silence, the only sound being Kirk’s muffled whimpers. McCoy held him tightly, quietly being the friend Jim desperately needed. When his sobs subsided, Jim broke the pseudo-embrace and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He immediately grabbed for his old-fashioned glass and drained the rest of the golden-brown contents.

“Sorry about that, Bones. I don’t know what came over me.”

Leonard could tell that Jim’s bravado was kicking in, the defense mechanism he had come to know quite well when Jim was hurting and didn’t want to admit it.

“Grief came over you, Jim. You don’t need to apologize.” He filled Kirk’s glass again. “You just lost your mother. Even if you weren’t close, it’s bound to affect you.”

“I know that. But I’m supposed to be strong. I’m a _Kirk._ Captains don’t do this shit.”

McCoy scoffed. “They sure as hell do, Jim. If you can’t show your emotional side, you’re bound to turn into a homicidal maniac or something. And I can guarantee that’s not something Starfleet wants in their club.”

Jim chuckled. “Homicidal maniac, huh? You really think that’d happen?”

McCoy slammed back the rest of his scotch, wincing at the burning in his throat it produced. “I’m a doctor, I know all about that kind of stuff. Now, you being Jim Kirk, you’d probably find a way to make it acceptable to the brass at headquarters, but I’d know different. And don’t think that I wouldn’t rat you out.”

Jim sat silently for a moment, looking out at the stars. “Thanks for being my friend, Bones.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.” He sat back on the plush couch. “Now let’s get to work on this bottle. There’s no way I’m letting it sit with the seal broken, so we’ve got some drinkin’ to do.”

Jim raised his glass, emptied it, and allowed McCoy to fill it once again. “So…you want to hear about my mom?”

Leonard smiled warmly and let Jim talk until the wee hours of the morning.

 

XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX   XxX  

 

_A/N: For a friend—you know who you are!_

 


End file.
